


A Flash of Purple

by Miss_Demon_Doll



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Death Eaters, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-06
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:22:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22588606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_Demon_Doll/pseuds/Miss_Demon_Doll
Summary: Hermione Granger is flung back in time only to find that everything she believes about the war is completely wrong.
Relationships: Antonin Dolohov/Hermione Granger
Comments: 21
Kudos: 147





	1. Prologue

...

The last thing that Hermione Granger saw as she fell to the cold stone floor was the Death Eater's leer, and a flash of purple. After that everything slowly ebbed and flowed into a wavering black.

Black, and then grey, and finally a white light flickered across the witch's eyes.

Hermione awoke with a gasp, her hands pulling at a crisp sheet that the witch soon realized was covering and pinning the lower part of her body. It took another moment for her to regain her memory and when she did, her eyes flashed open in fear.

They had been ambushed, the witch remembered frantically, it had been a trick.

The memories of curses and imposing figures in black robes and horrid masks unfolded in her mind, making her body jerk. Hermione clutched her hand against the fear that seemed to flow through her, the numb tingling that followed only emphasizing the pain.

And what of Harry, and Ron?

She sat up quickly, her hands out defensively, before a moan was pulled from her throat at the pain that clutched and trembled through her body. Hermione didn't know what had happened to her best friends. The last thing that she remembered was... was a whispered " _this is for last time"_ and dark eyes staring at her...

Is that what he had said, the Death Eater, before laughing and flinging the curse at her. The witch shivered and pulled on the sheets once more before she felt strong hands restraining her. Maybe she was wrong, she couldn't fully remember what had happened. Why would he say those words? It didn't make any sense.

Hermone's head ached as she struggled to stand, only to feel strong hands push her back down.

"Lay down, dear." Someone said as the sound of a finger tapping glass echoed and Hermione relented, falling back into the dark dream-world that seemed to take away the pain as a cool liquid hit her lips.

The witch didn't know how long she had slept, but when she woke again it was to voices speaking insistently. They seemed far off, distant to the witch while she clutched for some form of understanding. Hermione found little comfort in the words that reached her as her mind cleared and the voices became distinct.

"How is she?" A voice, that the witch just couldn't place, hummed near her, the sound wavering in her ear.

"She's struggling. There has been some nerve damage." There was a sigh from a feminine voice, "I will do my best, but this spell- the damage will be, in all likelihood, permanent. I can try-"

"What was the spell?" The first voice interrupted, closer this time, hovering.

"I couldn't tell you, it's nothing like I have ever seen before. They will have to interrogate Dolohov to find out what the effects will be." A silence settled, seeming to stretch on forever before the same voice continued, "But, I can tell you this... if Hermione hadn't silenced him, we would doubtlessly be looking at a dead child right now."

The witch listened to the words, her brain whirring with the information. She had been so close to death, it was only that he hadn't spoken the curse that she was alive. She was so lucky to have...

Hermione's skin crawled as something dawned on her, making her nearly lose her breath.

_I didn't silence anyone._

The thought slowly faded away as Hermione felt a cool breeze and then warmth before she drifted into another sleep, a chilling one that grasped her with harsh tendrils and pulled her deep, deep under.

...


	2. Instincts

...

Hermione Granger had never been the intuitive type. Divination, in her personal opinion, was complete rubbish. It was smoke and mirrors -trickery at its core- and she wanted nothing to do with it. The idea of taking action based on a feeling had always rubbed the young witch the wrong way.

It was guessing and to the studious witch, who found research and learning a crutch in a world that was so completely new to her, guessing was hazardous.

Thus, during the days leading up to Bill and Fleur's wedding, when Hermione felt that something was horribly off, she simply ignored it.

An action Hermione found rather easy.

She had gotten used to ignoring things over the years.

She had learned early on to ignore the sneers from her classmates at her muggle schools, and the whispers to "stay away from the Granger girl", followed by the hissed " _freak_ " as she passed.

Then it became " _mudblood_ " that was spat her way, which just as quickly became something she barely registered. Something to ignore.

She ignored the echo of numbness that had never truly left after she was cursed that horrible day. She ignored the sporadic hint of pain that thrummed through her scarred body, even if it did cause her to flex her fingers into a fist just to relieve the uncomfortable feelings.

She ignored the bent heads of her boys, who whispered in earnest when they believed she wasn't watching.

It hurt a little, the witch decided as she watched the stars all alone one night. The way Harry looked at her as if she was fragile. The fact that Ron rarely smiled her way anymore. It crept on her nerves, and made her twitch with the need to get away from their protective gaze. To escape.

It made her nervous to be seen as delicate. And, if she was being honest, she despised it. So much so, that when her vision began dimming at the edges, Hermione didn't mention it. When she began forgetting what she was doing only a moment earlier, she kept it to herself. When she woke up to her own screaming, she learned to strengthen her silencing charms.

And when she felt an intense paranoia while dressing for the Weasely-Delacour wedding she simply pressed her lips together and powered through it.

It seemed to work for the most part. Hermione was able to make it through the ceremony, her fingers clutched and hidden between the folds of her skirt. It seemed that her paranoia was just that - paranoia - and the witch slowly forgot her worries. But, then the screams began. They echoed from not too far away as she danced with Fred.

Hermione stopped, pulling the twin to a halt with her, when her ears picked up the noises. Then, slowly other couples stopped as well.

The music ceased and silence settled as the witches and wizards glanced worriedly at each other, unsure what was happening or what to do.

"The tent's on fire!" a woman behind her shrieked.

Hermione looked up to see fire spreading along the wood beam just above as the flames grew larger. They licked the sky as they spread, lighting up the Death Eaters that seemed to come out of nowhere.

Clutching her beaded bag in one hand and her wand extended in the other, Hermione left a distracted Fred.

The smoke had begun to get thick, making the witch's eyes water as she squinted through the haze and stumbled out of the tent. It was dark outside, the fire creating grotesque shadows against the chaos that ensued. Hunching down, Hermione ran away from the lawn and towards the great fields.

She prayed that Ron and Harry had done the same. If she could find them, they could apparate to London and begin their journey, their mission. She had planned for this. The witch clutched her bag tighter. She had everything prepared.

Curses lit the field like fireworks as Hermione ran, dodging through the tall weeds. Just a little farther away, the witch spotted the silhouette of the two wizards back to back. They stood as they had always practiced during their make-shift DADA lessons. One holding up a shield and the other scanning the field.

She sped up, waving at her friends.

The figures turned toward her, making fear suddenly haze her mind as she realized something wasn't right. They were taller than she remembered, imposing figures that made her heart speed up. Those weren't her wizards. She skidded to a stop, and as a flash of green light erupted from behind them the witch saw the wand extended towards her.

A sting erupted in her arm and Hermione flew backwards to the ground, the impact making her wand fly across the dirt and weeds. One of the figures drew towards her, the silver designs of his mask suddenly clear from the flickering lights

Panic tumbled through her body as he stomped closer, before crouching down to rip the purple bag from her hands and throw it to the figure behind him. He pulled a knife from his side and before Hermione could move away, the wizard grabbed her hand roughly to bring the blade to it.

"Please don't!" Her scream echoed as she kicked at his body. Unperturbed, the Death Eater cut open her palm. The pain bringing tears to the witch's eyes.

"Cras ac nocte tempus-" Droplets of blood fell to the dirt as the wizard whispered, the words becoming white noise to the witch as a sudden dizziness took her over.

Seemingly finished the Death Eater dropped her hand to stand up, and the witch scooted backwards. In the dust just beside her, Hermione saw her wand. Through the pain that stung her arm she crawled towards it.

With the wood clutched in her good hand, Hermione turned to curse him, but stopped. Light brown hair and grey eyes met hers. His cruel eyes crinkled as he looked at her tentatively, as if waiting.

Shaking her head, Hermione brought up the wand, the words of the curse on her lips. Before she could say them, the words melted on her tongue as the world began to fade.

The smirk that took over the Death Eater's face brought a cold wash through her body as everything she knew finally dissipated into darkness.

...

The world swayed, and Hermione braced herself against the sudden collision of ground, dropping her wand as she did so. Her hands throbbed with pain as they hit what felt like ice, splattering cold droplets which then settled as all around her became still. It was quiet now, the sounds of the battle gone and in its place the slight rhythm of wind.

Sitting up from where she had fallen, the witch found herself blinking away from the sudden sunlight that shone against her eyes. It was colder than it had been moments earlier. The frigid wind blew against the witch's bare skin as her eyes adjusted to the light. She squinted around, attempting the make out where she was.

Unlike the withered and dried field of late summer that she had once stood in, Hermione found herself in a field covered completely in snow.

Whatever blood-magic the Death Eater had done to her had sent her... somewhere.

Her heart began to race as she peered around, her hands beginning to tremble from the cold.

She was going to freeze to death. Was that what he had intended? Or perhaps she would be eaten -torn apart bit by bit- by a wild animal, by a werewolf? The witch glanced around, suddenly feeling exposed.

But, why send her here if his intentions were to simply kill her? Why go through the effort? Hermione shook her head. It didn't make any sense.

Despite the reasoning, whatever he had done to her had been a success. She could tell by the twisted smile that had spread across his face as he had disappeared.

Or, rather she had disappeared.

The silk-thin dress that Hermione wore blew against her skin, making her whole body begin to shake from the cold, and forcing the thoughts out of her mind. If she was going to survive, she needed to act now think later. And, the first thing she needed to do was find the wand she had dropped at impact.

Extending her arm and splaying her fingers out, the witch steadied herself, "Accio wand"

The wind whistled as it picked up.

"Accio wand!"

She waited a moment, before realizing nothing was going to happen. Kicking around in the snow with her flat, it took only a moment before Hermione saw the hard wood of her wand, and when she did she felt her heart nearly break.

"Shit!" she screamed at the splintered pieces that lay in the dirty sludge and were barely held together by a strip of wood.

Hermione flung down to lift the pieces only to be met with a sharp pain that needled its way through the arm that had been cursed, making her drop the wood back to the ground.

The witch winced, grabbing her arm, before letting go with another groan of pain.

Looking down at her hand she found that she was still bleeding. The red flowed and leaked from her palm onto the white snow below.

The cut was deeper than she had thought, and Hermione knew the first thing she needed to focus on was getting herself healed. She was bleeding too quickly, and losing too much blood.

Rubbing her eyes with her arm to take away the spots of darkness, the witch looked around to see if she could find any signs of civilization. She was met with nothing but fields and trees surrounding her.

The wind picked up, blowing a spray of snow towards her. Wiping the cold wet from her face, Hermione looked around more frantically. _Anything, anything._ She spun, as panic began to jostle through her body.

This was the end, this is how she was going to go. Not by war -not by a curse- no she was going to die cold and alone, and no one would ever know what happened to her.

Her lips began to tremble, and as she felt that it was useless to continue a smudge of red in a world of white and grey caught the witch's attention. Squinting through the wind, she realized that it was an odd looking house snuggled just behind the tree line.

Walking to the house through the drifts of snow proved harder that she had anticipated. The cold spread through her body quickly, making each step numb and stiff. Hermione knew she was losing heat fast, and if she didn't get somewhere warm soon she would die from hypothermia.

_Just one more step._

Something caught against her foot, making her body slam against the ground. _It's just so cold_ , she shivered from the snow that melted and clung to her remaining body heat.

_Don't give up, you can't give up._

_But, I'm tired... so cold..._

Her eyes drifted shut.

With a gasp for breath, Hermione sat up quickly as a tremor wound through her body, making her keel backwards. The sudden pain after barely catching herself against the ground with the palms of her hands made the witch open her eyes.

The realization that she had just drifted off to sleep made the witch shake with fear. She had been so close to death, no she wouldn't let this happen to her. Getting on her hands and knees, Hermione began to crawl forward inch by inch.

Then, taking a shallow breath that rattled her bones, the witch stood.

Stumbling forward, the house seemed to steadily get closer and finally -finally- she found herself at the door. She knocked on it with her good hand, until it creaked open to show a woman with long blonde hair that shone silver.

"Are you okay, dear?" The words were soft as they reached Hermione's ears, the warmth from the house smelled like cinnamon and gingerbread.

Like the gingerbread her mother used to make for her when she was younger. _Sweet, spicy, and warm..._

The witch's eyes focused, and she realized that the woman was waiting for a response, "I think?" she swayed as she spoke, the dizziness intensifying as she suddenly felt drowsy again. Wasn't she okay? She felt warmer, maybe she just needed sleep.

The older witch looked Hermione up and down taking in the blood pooling at her feet and the formal dress, before beckoning her inside with a quick flutter of her hand, "Boys, help me! Xeno," the woman turned her head as she yelled behind her, "bring me my potions box and hurry!"

Hermione felt herself being pulled from the doorway, and heard the distinct snap of the door being shut behind her. The woman was talking to her again, but she couldn't hear her. She was just too cold, too tired.

A sudden pain across her cheek made the witch jump and recoil, but the words spoken were now clear against her ears.

"Stay with me. Tony, could you put this blanket on her?" Hermione suddenly felt a heavy cloth covering her shoulders. "Can you tell me your name?"

Closing her eyes, the witch struggled to response, just barely letting out a mumbled, "hm...Mione,"

"Good, good. Nice to meet you Mione. I'm Nyssa." The woman's hands felt warm as they patted Hermione's face. She leaned into it, feeling soothed if only slightly, as she listened to her soft voice. "My son Xeno is bringing the potions. Ah. yes, here it is. Now, I'm going to need you to drink this. Yes, there you go. Good girl."

The haze slowly disappeared as whatever the woman had given her slid down her throat. Hermione became suddenly aware of the woman in front of her, and someone propping her up from behind, their arm wrapped around her midsection.

"I only gave you a blood replenisher. We will need to heal your hand to completely stop the bleeding." The witch squeezed her shoulder as she drew out her wand, "It's going to hurt"

Hermione nodded, preparing herself for the pain, "Okay,"

The feeling of her skin knitting itself back together brought a hiss that bubbled up and out of her lips. The pain lasted only a moment, then faded into a dull throb. It hadn't been the worse pain she had ever felt, but Hermione was relieved that it was over. It was all over, she was alive.

The witch sagged in relief against the person who held her, as the older woman patted her hand against Hermione's matted hair and warmed her with spells. The witch stood like this for what seemed like forever, before finally the feeling of her body had begun to return.

Hermione opened her eyes, then stood straighter and nudged the person behind her to let her go.

The strong arm around her loosened only slightly, "Are you sure you stand by yourself, kukla?"

...


	3. Silence

_**Hermione opened her eyes, then stood straighter and nudged the person behind her to let her go.** _

_**The strong arm around her loosened only slightly, "Are you sure you can stand by yourself, kukla?"** _

_..._

Her world dimmed, and then cleared with terrifying clarity. Although whispered, the man's words seemed to hit the air and cling desperately to the silence that followed. Silent, save for the sharp ringing that violently filled Hermione's ears.

Hermione knew _that_ voice, _that accent, that word_. _Kukla._

It was a word that had been terrorizing her strange dreams for years, always preventing her from getting a proper night's sleep.

Despite having gotten over her fears, the sound of _his_ voice made her feel as if she were that child again, writhing against a death that was seemingly inevitable. At the memory, Hermione's body stiffened with a sudden sting of phantom pain that ran along the scar on her chest, making her hand clench and legs weaken beneath her. The scar burned and pulsed below her skin like lightning. In response to her movements, the arms around her torso tightened once more, the man's breath brushed warm against the exposed skin of her neck.

_The breath of..._

The realization of just who held her snugly against their body swept over the witch quickly. Wrenching herself out of the Death Eater's arms, Hermione scurried forward and spun around.

At her brash motions, the heavy blanket that had been wrapped around her shoulders fell to her feet and caught on the toe of her shoe, making her stumble and fall to her knees. Hermione winced at the impact; the cold, wet fabric of her silky dress only seeming to emphasize the biting sting of the hard floor. Grimacing, she balanced herself against the smooth stone with the palms of her hands to look up at the man hovering over her.

Antonin Dolohov.

Despite the fireplace shining from behind him and casting his face into shadows, Hermione could easily recognize the dark eyes that stared back towards her, she could feel the depths of them seeming to bore a hole into her bared soul.

_How could she have been so stupid!_ Of course, this all had been a trap, and she had crawled half-dead right into their hands.

Hermione flinched backwards as Dolohov took a step forward, his hand extended towards her. Panicking, the witch crawled as far backwards as she could go, before bumping into a wooden cupboard.

At the solid feeling of the wood behind her, Hermione felt the scream that had been bubbling inside of her finally become too much. "Don't touch me!"

The words came out weak, only a hiss that sounded too far away to be her own voice. She quickly looked around as the air wavered in and out of darkness.

The witch knew that without her wand she had very little chance of making it out of this house alive. It would be only a matter of time before she was writhing on the floor from whatever manner of torture the twisted man wanted to place on her. She had survived him once, there was no way that he was going to let that happen a second time. She was going to die in house that smelled like her mother's homemade gingerbread. It was all so cruel.

Turning her head to the side, she let in a quick breath. On the table sat a kitchen knife. Focusing on the gleam of the knife's blade, the witch lifted her hand just as the handle to flew into her palm.

The huff of surprise that came from Dolohov's lips at her silent and wandless magic would have made her smile under any other circumstance but, as she lifted the blade and pointed it at him, smug laughter was far from her thoughts.

He was mistaken if he thought that she would lay down and die without a fight.

From where she sat on the floor, she watched as Dolohov took out his wand while another man stepped behind him, his wand already trained on Hermione. The silence in the room was palpable, it pressed against the young witch's ears as she tried to focus.

_Focus. focus. focus..._

Surely there was a way out of this mess. Scanning the room quickly, Hermione caught the outline of a floo with the corner of her eye. It was just on the other side of Dolohov's companion. If only she could distract them both, she could—

"Moine, put that knife down." The sound of the soft voice surprised her. She had forgotten that the older witch was there. Looking towards the sound, Hermione spotted the sweet-looking woman stepping closer, "Shush, calm down. I don't know what happened to you but, you are not in danger here, love"

The words lulled the young witch, only accentuating how exhausted she really was. She was in danger, she knew that, but this woman had just saved her life, would she really allow it to be taken so savagely?

At the thought, Hermione turned her head back quickly to the Death Eater. The world was full of depraved and sick people, she was not going to let her guard down.

"This is my son," the soft voice continued, "Xenophilius, and his friend Antonin. They won't hurt you, love."

The witch glanced at the man that stood behind Dolohov. _Xenophilius?_

She knew a Xenophilius—but, Hermione had just talked to Luna's father what could not have been hours ago, he had mentioned how much he liked the colour of her dress while Luna danced circles around them, her hands fluttering like butterflies around her body. And, _this_ man was not him. His hair was too short, too blonde rather than silver, his face was too smooth and round, it did not show the tell-tale signs of...

A gasp escaped Hermione's lips as the knife clattered to the floor and her hand flew to her mouth, covering it in absolute horror.

_Xenophilius wasn't a common name._

This was all so very wrong, no. No, no no, this was impossible.

_But, how?_

Hermione felt her body wavering again as if she were going to slump to the ground, but instead of going downward she felt herself being pulled up. Opening her eyes, the witch found herself face to face with Antonin Dolohov. Pushing her against the sharp edges of the wooden cupboard, the wizard's fingers dug into her upper arms, pinning her in place. "Who are you?!"

Words were lost on the witch as she examined the Death Eater. He too looked to be twenty years younger than she remembered him being. His long black hair grazed eyes, mouth set in a scowl—distorting appealing features. Despite how handsome he was, his eyes were still cruel, making the witch suddenly try to twist away.

At her motion, the Russian wizard grasped her harder and growled again, "answer me!"

"Tony, no. Leave her be," the older witch's voice surprised them both this time, though Dolohov did not take his eyes off of the smaller witch.

"Mrs. Lovegood—"

"Antonin."

Nyssa's tone left no room for argument, and Hermione felt the wizard's grasp tighten briefly, pinching her cold skin, before he let go altogether. Falling to the ground, the young witch grabbed the knife she had dropped as she scooted back into the shadows the cupboard made.

Darkness crept at the edges of her vision as the horrible realization finally and completely dawned on the her. Hermione closed her eyes as her breath shortened—strangling against her throat. _The Death Eater didn't send me somewhere, he sent me some… when_. Tears ran down her cheeks, clinging to her ratted hair. _I'm alone._

She barely had time to comprehend her last thought before a wave of darkness took her and she finally slipped fully into blessed unconsciousness.

...

_She'd run, always run from the cruel laughter that reverberated from the high stone archways. She knew that they had been foolish to make decisions on the whims of a vision. But, Harry had lost everything, and she couldn't stand him losing anything else._

_But, now she felt the foolishness of their choices as the laughter got ever closer, following her, grabbing her, pulling her down. The thickness of it wrapping around her throat like a claw, squeezing with something different than hatred, something... else entirely. The laughter wrapped and constrained her in its tight grip. She couldn't move, couldn't move, couldn't get away._

_Slowly, the laughter died down, and in its place the clear snap of boots vibrated against the cold floor. As they moved closer, Hermione felt panic rising in her chest—her breathing erratic. She was sure she was moments from death as the sound stopped next to her ear and she stared into dark eyes._

_The man—the Death Eater—had taken off his mask. And, now Hermione could see the deep creases of a frown on his lips as he crouched beside her unmoving body._

_"So easy, kukla" his accent twisted the words playfully, tauntingly, "Why you think you'll ever triumph, I don't know,"_

_He stood abruptly to leave her alone and untouched, his final words in a language she couldn't understand, but a warning nonetheless "Vy poterpite neudachu. Tol'ko vopros vremeni. Vremya na nashey storone,"_

_She was stuck to listen, to feel the words on repeat as night ticked away to dawn, and dawn to morning, and morning to afternoon, until she finally woke up with a start._

...

The warm sound of clinking dishes and food frying woke Hermione the next morning. It was a familiar sound that, if only for a moment, made the young witch believe that she was safely back at the Burrow. She could smell the good food, and almost see Ronald coming down with that grin of his, Harry in tow—his black curls ruffled with sleep. Then, as her fingers curled against the knife handle in her hand, the image fractured, and Hermione remembered the truth.

She was somewhere in the past, utterly alone, and hiding behind a stranger's cupboard.

Her heart ached as she thought about that. Harry and Ron would have no idea what had happened to her. Would they be searching for her? Would she ever see them again, or had her fall into the past already changed the motion of the future?

Hermione clutched her head with her free hand as her mind moved quickly through the implications of her appearance here.

Time was something that Hermione knew shouldn't be played with. She had learned about it long ago when she researched her time-turner. The abuse of time turned witches and wizards mad. It decayed them from the inside out, and the recorded incidences were just from the subjects moving too frequently through small jumps of time.

Hermione feared to know how long she had been sent back.

The only time that she had used her time-turner haphazardly was when she and Harry had saved Buckbeak, and Dumbledore had said—

_Dumbledore._ That was it. Dumbledore would know what to do, know how to fix this mess. Surely, she could find him at Hogwarts despite the year, he had been there for ages.

But, that meant that she had to survive long enough to get to Hogwarts. Hermione knew she had to act normal. Which she, no doubt, had already buggered up by pulling a knife on the 'complete strangers' who had saved her. She wouldn't be surprised if her appearance and actions hadn't already resulted in some kind reporting to authorities. Considering the parties involved, just which authority, she was fearful to think about.

So entranced in her own thoughts, Hermione didn't notice the pause of kitchen sounds, or the shadow cast upon her until it spoke.

…

_Vy poterpite neudachu. Tol'ko vopros vremeni. Vremya na nashey storone:_ _You'll fail. Only a matter of time. Time is on our side._


	4. Petrichor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (NOTE: I forgot to place a WARNING in the initial chapter. Because of this I am placing a warning at the beginning of this chapter and then I will not be placing any more chapter warnings. Throughout this story there will be violence, sexual assault, sexual situations, and major character deaths. This is labeled MATURE for a reason. Thank you.)

_Each step through the puddles and sludge splashed cold against her exposed ankles. Even though she shivered with cold, Hermione walked slowly, outwardly telling herself it was paramount in the windy rain to keep her balance on the slick sidewalk of her street corner._

_No, not her street corner. Her parent's street corner in her parent's world._

_This wasn't her world, not anymore._

_Had it ever really been?_

_Feeling her throat begin to clog, Hermione pushed those thoughts aside as soon as they arose-it seemed that denial had increasingly become second nature to her-and instead, she focused on her slow and determined steps._

_Despite the darkness of the cloudy sky, it couldn't have been past 6:30 in the evening. Hermione knew both her parents would be home by now, sitting and watching the evening news on the telly. She could see her mother relaxed against the sofa, her father peering over his glasses. It was a scene that she didn't want to let go of, a scene that she knew she just had to see once more._

_At the steps leading to the front door of her childhood home the witch hesitated, fingers grasping around the smooth wood of her wand, breathing in the familiar smells of what once was and would never be again. Having composed herself, Hermione placed her hand on the brass door-handle and turned it._

_The first thing that the witch noticed was out of place was the smell. It smelled like wet. Like rain hitting a dry desert—as if her mother had left the windows propped opened despite the ongoing storm, an act of forgetfulness that was so unlike her. The thought made a shiver creep through her skin._

_"Mum?"_

_The second thing that she noticed was the sound of static from the telly. It hissed violently louder and louder with each step the witch took towards the living room._

_"Dad?"_

_No answer came as she crept through the empty house. It wasn't until fingers grasped her shoulder and a scream built up in her chest that she realized she wasn't really alone._

...

Clutching the knife between trembling hands, the witch glanced up just in time to find a wand pointed down at her. Hermione didn't have to look up to know who had disrupted her thoughts. She could feel it in the air around her. Having the shadow of a man that in the future would attempt to murder her cast upon her was terrifying. Utterly terrifying until the witch recognized the wand pointing towards her was her own, and the words that had been spoken finally became clear:

"Is this yours?"

Fear curdled and turned to bitterness and all thoughts of future pain and agony vanished in favor of burning anger. The knife she held in her hands hit the floor with a clatter as she snatched her very broken wand out of the wizard's hand.

It was unfair. All so fucking unfair. She didn't ask to be Harry Potter's best friend or to love him so dearly. She didn't ask to be hunted and cursed for being part of a world that _she belonged to._ And, she most definitely didn't ask to be cut open and sent back in time by a BLOODY DEATH EATER! Dropping her now useless wand, the witch scratched at her itchy and scarred palm.

_Why is it always me?!_

"Son of a bitch. What did you bastards do!" she snarled, feeling her hair sizzle and crackle around her head as she attempted to keep her magic under control.

"Tony, what the hell did you do to her?!" A deep voice questioned from behind her.

"Blyad, Xeno. I did nothing," snarled the Russian wizard in return as he stepped away from the witch and her outburst. The sound of wood scraping the floor followed Dolohov's voice as he sat down at the kitchen table.

"Then, why is she screaming!?" The voice of her friend's father was suddenly very near. Near enough that it made the witch move backwards.

Their exchanged words and Xenophilius' closeness made Hermione's mind race. They didn't know who she was, she remembered. She had a brief opportunity to use this to her advantage. To escape, find Dumbledore, and get back to her own time. She knew that the only way to accomplish this was by calming down in order to prevent anymore suspicion on her. Comply with the wizards and lull them into a sense of security. If she didn't have a wand to use for escape then she had to use her brain.

"I'm fine," Hermione muttered, biting down the rage and interrupting their conversation, "I just... God _damnit_. It's just my wand."

Nodding grimly, Xeno crouched down to pick up the remains of her wand, placing them in her hands before turning to examine her.

"How're you feeling, Miana?" He asked, his blue eyes looking into her brown ones. The witch's ears perked up at the name that he had just called her. She thought she had heard the older witch call her Moine last night, a nickname that the twins had used to annoy her during their time together at Hogwarts. But, then again, she couldn't remember quite clearly what had happened, and this name didn't sound anything like her own.

_In fact,_ Hermione's mind whirled as considered her situation, _it's different enough from my real name that it will be hard to connect this me and future me as the same person._

Fiddling with the wand pieces in her hand, the witch chose not to correct the blonde wizard.

"I'm fine" the witch repeated herself, "a little shaken, still, I think"

"What happened to you last night?" A sharp voice demanded from the table, and Hermione's eyes snapped up to meet Dolohov's suspicious gaze.

"I- I don't remember," the witch lied, hoping that it would be convincing enough. As the Death Eater's glare darkened, she second guessed her acting skills until the softer voice of Xeno interrupted her thoughts and drew her eyes away from the Russian wizard.

"What about family? Is there no one we can contact?"

Gingerly touching her head, Hermione shook her head. The thought of her parents made her sniffle and suppress another growl of pain induced rage, instead she whispered "No- no, there is not."

Sighing, the blonde wizard stood up, "That's what mum was worried about this morning."

Remembering the witch that had saved her life, Hermione looked up hopefully "Your mum, where is she?"

"We'll talk about it over breakfast," the wizard leaned down to pull the witch from the ground, before leading her towards the kitchen table.

...

Ten minutes later found the witch with a cup of tea steaming in front of her. The tea was too sweet, but under the dark gaze of the Russian wizard sitting across from her, Hermione didn't complain. She didn't say a word as she brushed her fingers along the edge of the delicate cup and stared back at the Death Eater from behind a curtain of curly and snarled hair.

In the morning light, it was unmistakable that he was the same wizard that had cursed her all those years ago.

But, he was definitely so much younger. The harsh years in the service of Voldemort and imprisonment in Azkaban hadn't yet left its mark. She wondered if he was even in the service of his Dark Lord yet. Her eyes glanced down at his sleeve covered arm, before resting once more on his face. He couldn't have been more than a few years older than her.

The witch allowed her gaze to follow the wizard's high cheekbones and sharp jaw thoughtfully. He was so...

Hermione's grip on her cup tightened and her eyes rose to meet his. Dolohov's dark hair brushed just above his dark eyes and she felt a shiver wrack her body. _Those_ hadn't changed. They were the same ones that promised pain and death. They were the same ones that had made her want to run and hide from her nightmares every night.

But now, sitting across from him during an early-afternoon breakfast, she didn't want to run and hide. No, she wanted to curse him. She wanted to hurt him just like her scar throbbed with every movement she made. The sudden and intense desire to bestow pain on him itched through her body. Hermione wanted to curse him and then leave without a second thought.

But, it had been evident since the moment she sat down at the table with them that she wasn't going anywhere, not until Mrs. Lovegood got back.

The witch took a sip, swallowed her grimace, and set down her cup. Maybe a little bit too hard.

"I'm sorry, you said Mrs. Lovegood went... _where_?"

Raising his dark stare from where it had dropped to watch the tea splash over the tip of her cup and onto the table, Dolohov's mouth opened as if about to speak, but it was Xeno that answered from the stove, "Mum went to the Ministry."

The rest was left unspoken, though-as Xeno set a plate of toast in front of her and Dolohov sneered at it and then her-the words hung in the air between them. They were here to babysit. The irritation towards the situation radiated around her in waves.

Deigning not to speak any further, Hermione focused on buttering her toast. She wondered why Mrs. Lovegood was at the Ministry. Was she reporting her? Surely, she wouldn't do something like that without first talking to Hermione. Then, again, she had no idea how any of these people thought, in fact she only knew her experiences with Luna. And, Luna often did things without fully stating her reasons or fully considering the outcomes beforehand.

Either way, Hermione knew she had to think of some way to get out of the house and to Hogwarts. Perhaps it would be possible to convince them to take her there. But, she didn't quite like the idea of Dolohov knowing that she was seeking help from Albus Dumbledore. Xenophilius, she wouldn't mind knowing... maybe. Glancing at the two wizards silently eating their toast and eggs made a shiver run down the witch's spine.

Hermione gripped her fork angrily, _When did they become such bloody good friends?!_

A scratching at the window made all three of them look towards the window. Xeno stood, moving swiftly in order to open the window and allow a snow-white owl into the kitchen. It sat patiently as the wizard traded a bit of toast for the envelope in its beak.

"It's mum, she says that she is caught up. She won't be back until this evening."

Dolohov's irritated growl made Hermione jump, nearly dropping the fork that she had been mutilating her eggs with, "Damnit Xeno! We are meeting tonight, we can't miss it."

The witch's mind reeled at his words. Who were they meeting? Who was _Nyssa_ meeting and why was it taking so damn long? What could she be doing that would cause her to be gone for nearly an entire day? Surely, she wouldn't be... Hermione gulped for a breath air as her thoughts trailed into darker possibilities.

Truth be told, she knew nothing about this time in relation to Luna's family other than that they were Purebloods.

_Surely, they wouldn't be..._

Hermione watched as her friend's father leaned in and gripped the Death Eater's shoulder as they argued. It was a friendly- no, a _brotherly_ action that made the young witch stand suddenly, causing her chair to fall from behind her.

Neither of the wizards noticed her change in position as Xeno nearly yelled, "No. Mum, explicitly said not to leave her, Tony."

"We have to-"

"Could I use the restroom?"

Two pairs of eyes turned to focus on her, making her twitch, before Xeno finally replied, "Upstairs, on the left side."

Nodding, the witch walked slowly past them towards the stairs. She felt eyes follow her, but tried not to focus on them as she walked through the kitchen towards the stairs. She had to be careful. She had to do this quickly, otherwise she would never get a another chance at escaping.

Listening to their argument pick up once more, Hermione stopped walking and steadied herself against the stair's railing for a moment. Then, taking a deep breath, Hermione jumped down and scurried towards the Floo that was nestled just beside the stove. She turned around as she flung the floo powder down around her. The image of the two wizards jumping up disappeared as she softly whispered the words aiding in her escape.

"The Leaky Cauldron."

The pub that Hermione found herself in was dark and, for the most part, empty. Despite the feeling of a lump forming in her throat from a sudden unexplained fear, no one she walked by gave her a second glance. Settling against the bar counter, Hermione waved to get the barkeeps attention "the loo, please?"

The man behind the bar gruffly nodded behind her and then went back to cleaning bottles as Hermione swiveled around and hurried towards the back.

Despite the fact that the bathroom was small and dingy, Hermione sighed with relief at the moment of privacy. Locking the door, she took in a deep breath before turning to look at herself in the mirror. She looked terrible. Blood speckled across a thin and pale face, and over her hands and shoulders. Her eyes looked huge peeking from under the tangled mess that her curly hair had become.

Leaning over the sink, the witch splashed warm water across her face and scrubbed it clean. Then, looking around, Hermione spotted a hairband forgotten by some other witch or wizard on the bathroom sink. Not caring about being hygienic, she grabbed it and pulled her massive hair back away from her face and into a ponytail.

Scrubbing her teeth clean with her finger, the witch rinsed her mouth until she felt human again. Sighing, she stood up again and gave herself one final examination. She looked better now with clean skin and tamed hair. The red dress she wore covered any signs of blood, thankfully. Settling back on her heels, Hermione's eyes met her own in the reflection. Despite everything she had done she knew she couldn't fix the haunted look in her eyes. She didn't know if it would ever go away.

Worried that the two wizards had heard her muttered words while flooing, the witch wasted no time in leaving the bathroom. Striding across the barroom, Hermione stopped only to pick up a Daily Prophet. She felt her heart stop and the air in her throat suffocate her.

_28, December 1978_

The witch dropped the paper back onto the table before continuing her way out of the Pub. She needed a place to sit and think. Somewhere warm. Shivering from the December wind, Hermione hurried down the cobblestone path with one place in mind.

She knew exactly where she was going to go.


	5. Shadows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (NOTE: Thank you to everyone for the reviews, favorites, and follows. :) I do a happy dance every time I see one. Also... don't hate me for what is going to happen in this chapter.)

...

**Chapter 4: Shadows**

Flourish and Blott's was so very warm.

And, it smelled like home to the young witch. It smelled like better times when all she had to worry about was what book she was going to read next, or what NEWTS she would have to take in order to get the career she wanted.

Today was not one of those day.

After entering the bookstore, Hermione had barely glanced at the clerk who greeted her after the bell chimed. Instead of politely responding, she had quickly made her way into the back of the store, settling into a familiar chair -albeit less ripped and worn than what she was used to. The witch let out a sigh of relief at the fact that little had changed in the bookstore as she leaned over and placed her face in her hands.

She needed to figure out what she was going to do.

Sucking her lip in-between her teeth, Hermione thought about her next steps. The first thing that had to be done was to contact Dumbledore. There was no way to floo into Hogwarts without invitation. Meaning that she would either have to owl a letter directly to Dumbledore with a plea to meet, or contact somebody that could then contact the Headmaster. It shouldn't be too difficult.

But, then what would she tell him? Should she tell him the truth, everything that had happened to her and what would eventually happen in this time? Or...

No, she trusted the wizard. She felt a sad smile crawl across her face at the thought of seeing him alive and well.

Sitting up, Hermione looked at the shelves of books that surrounded her as a feeling of regret washed over her at the thought of leaving the store. Taking a deep breath in order to steel her reserve to leave, the witch's eyes settled on the section before her.

_Nonfiction: A-D_

Feeling her lips curve into a real smile, Hermione stood up and made her way to examine the tomes in front of her.

It was dark by the time Hermione finally left the closed bookstore at the insistence of the exasperated clerk. Walking along the cobblestone street, the witch shivered at the frigid wind that seemed to bleed through her body and chill her soul. She hadn't found anything of use in the books she had gathered around her favorite chair. Most of them had barely even been about the actual subject of blood magic, rather they focused on the laws and regulations that bound them from being preformed.

Shivering from a sudden cold wind, Hermione wrapped her arms around herself. She needed to figure out where to go next.

In hindsight, determining where to go was what she should have been doing during her time in the warm bookstore. It had just been so nice to forget everything horrible, and snuggle down and read instead, even if it was just for a bit. Regretting her choice now, the witch wracked her brain on what to do. With no money she had few options. Perhaps she could find a member of the Order and beg them to take her to Hogwarts. They were already established by 1978, weren't they?

The witch shook her head trying to remember what Harry had told her about his parents. It was no use, it had become so hard to remember things ever since that day at the Ministry of Magic. That had been one of the reasons why she hadn't made a fuss about not attending Hogwarts for her final year. She had feared she wouldn't pass. It was such a silly worry now that the witch thought about it.

Feeling angry at herself, Hermione sped up her steps as she rounded a corner in order to cut her way through an alley.

The witch's loud footsteps followed her as she closed the distance towards the street ahead, only to find herself flung back into the dark alley by what felt like a brick wall. Looking up, her eyes followed the hard angles of the wizard that she had run into until she reached grey eyes. Too stunned to speak, the witch stared at the man in front of her.

_It couldn't be._

"What the...?" the familiar voice of Sirius Black reverberated from the alley around them as he took a moment to study the witch in front of him. A sudden warmth flooded Hermione's heart at the sight of him. Everything was going to be alright. It was going to be fine now.

Moving unsteadily, she took a few steps towards her friend's godfather.

"Oh, thank Merlin. I need to talk to..."

The words dried out on her tongue as a strong hand ran its way up her hip and twisted itself around her waist. At the feeling of being pulled, the witch leaned in to clutch onto the front of his leather jacket to steady herself from falling. As she did, the strong smell of firewhiskey assaulted her senses making her wrinkle her nose and struggle to get away as he pushed her farther back against a wall and into the shadows.

"Do I know you?" His voice was deep as he dipped his head down in order to nuzzle his nose into her shoulder, his lips leaving a hot wet trail as they moved against skin while fingers gripped the silk of her dress tightly, "I don't think we've met."

Pushing roughly at the wizard's shoulders, Hermione angled her weight into shoving his arms off of her as she tried to understand what was taking place, "I... I-"

"You're so cold, Kitten," Sirius leaned into her harder to force her arms down, pinning her in place as his hands smoothed over her hips and onto the bare skin of her legs. A shiver took over her body as the wizard slowly slid his hands up her thighs until they rested on her bottom over her lace panties. The feeling of his fingers stroking made the young witch buck against him even harder in an attempt to put some space between them.

This was going all wrong. This wasn't...

Hermione flinched as his teeth bit down just hard enough to trap her from moving.

At the feeling of being bit, the witch's brain overloaded. She knew that she should be doing something, _anything_ , in order to get away, but her body refused to listen to her instincts. Instead, darkness began to creep at the edges of her sight.

"I... uhm, please let go of me" the words felt like they stuck in her throat as they clumsily tumbled around her mouth. Even though she knew what was happening, she couldn't fully comprehend anything other than the intense need to take his body off of hers. Her breath stuttered in her chest as she felt the man biting down even harder, before letting the skin go altogether.

"It's okay. shush, love. I'm just going to warm you up a bit." the wizard teased her as he rubbed his face lower and lower until it rested just above her chest, Hermione squirmed under the feeling of his warm breath hitting her breast through the thin dress, "Gods, why do you smell so good?"

Standing up again, Sirius used his grip over her knickers to pull her body into his. Hermione let out a hiss of pain as he squeezed her lace covered bum and rubbed himself roughly against her. The feel of the wizard's hardness grinding through his blue jeans against her became too much as the spots of darkness speckled her sight even more and her ability to breath became nonexistent.

Feeling suddenly very dizzy she lay her head back against the wall and closed her eyes, barely registering the sound of her dress being ripped down the front to reveal her bra, or the cold air biting her abruptly exposed chest and stomach. It wasn't until another familiar voice echoed down the alley way, a voice that the witch couldn't quite place through the fogginess that had become part of her brain, that the witch came painfully back to reality.

"Sirius...?" Snapping her eyes open at the baritone echo, Hermione turned her head to the side, barely making out a towering figure walking towards them.

"Please," she pleaded at the figure, her hands attempting to push off the wizard again with revived panic.

The figure stopped right beside them, casting them into shadow. She couldn't clearly make out his face, but, as a displeased groan emitted from him, Hermione thought she saw a shake of head, "Ah shit, Padfoot. We don't have time for this."

"You're no fun, Moony."

Hearing the familiar nickname clicked something in the witch's brain. _Remus._ Surely Remus, would put this to an end. Clenching her fists and leaning towards the werewolf, she began restating her original plea "I need to talk to-"

 _"_ Shut up." the dark haired wizard's words coincided with the feeling of being shoved harshly into the wall behind her. A hiss of pain escaped her as the Marauder bit down hard on her now exposed neck, forcing her attention back onto him.

"Please... please let go. I won't tell anyone," Her back was slammed hard into the wall again, this time making her head crack against the stones. Hermione's ears began to ring from the impact.

"I said shut up." Fingers curled around her bum again, toying with the lace covering her panties made.

_This can't really be happening. Sirius would never really... This is going to happen, and Remus is going to let it. How could this be happening?_

A deep feeling of betrayal turned Hermione's stomach. She was being assaulted by somebody that she had looked up to as a something akin to a guardian, somebody that she had trusted. It didn't matter that he had no idea who she was, or their connection in the future. The fact that he... no, _they_ would do this to anybody -stranger or not- made the witch want to get sick all over the concrete below her.

_No. absolutely not. Fuck this._

With a feeling of renewed anger, Hermione pushed against his shoulders one last time before bringing her forehead down hard against the wizard's nose. Warm blood spattered against her face and exposed chest. At the impact, the Marauder snarled in pain as his hands moved out from under her dress to tangle in her hair and around her throat.

"You little bitch."

His words were almost laughed as the fingers around her throat squeezed until Hermione felt herself gasping for air. Doing her best to cling to life, the witch blinked back the darkness that wanted so badly to creep over her consciousness.

As everything faded, from what seemed like a million miles away, she heard Remus snarl. "Padfoot," the wizard warned just before the sound of footsteps and a clear voice interrupted Sirius' movements.

"I see you are still up to your old ways, brother."

At the words, Sirius's body stiffened against her own, his hand loosening around her throat only a little. Turning his head in order to face whoever had spoke caused blood droplets to fall onto his jacket. Hermione watched them fall before following his gaze to warily eye two men over his shoulder.

The one who spoke looked so much like Sirius Black that she felt a shudder roll down her body. With grey eyes and black hair, the wizards could have been related. Her mind perked at the word he had spoken. _Brother._ Did Sirius have a brother? She couldn't remember.

Standing just out of the shadows, the wizard clenched a wand in his hand. Although it rested at his side, the tension in his shoulders told Hermione that he was prepared for a duel at any moment. Next to the darker wizard, stood a man that was a light to the other's darkness- blonde waves of hair framed the wizard's tan face. Unlike his companion, his wand was pointed at Sirius.

Feeling the grip on her hair tightening, Hermione tore her gaze away from the wizards and back onto Sirius. The Marauder let his hand fall from her throat as he pulled out his wand and turned all the way in order to train it on the wizards. The witch tore at his hands as she was dragged from the wall by her hair.

"Well, if it isn't the most beloved snot. Heir of Black. I was just saying hello, wasn't I love?" A jolt of pain erupted on Hermione's scalp as he punctuated the last few words by swinging her by her hair.

Looking back towards the wizards, Hermione watched as the blonde wizard's mouth curved into a grimace as he followed the Marauder movements, "Let go of her."

Not being able to clearly make out his features from such a distance, she wondered if there was anger in his eyes or just pity. At the thought, the witch suddenly felt a wave of shame wash through her. This wasn't who she was. It didn't matter, all energy that she had previously had was completely drained from her. It was just too much.

"Why should I, Rosier? She one of your little Pureblood slags?" Hermione stiffened at the feeling of the dark-haired wizards leaning into her neck, his nose left a cold, wet trail of blood as he theatrically sniffed her, "She doesn't smell like a Pureblood. Does she, Moony?"

A deep growl echoed from the shadows slightly behind them. The witch jumped at the sound, having forgotten that the wizard was there. Stepping out of the shadows, the werewolf already had his wand extended in front of him.

"As much as I'm enjoying this _entertainment_ , Padfoot, we don't have time for it. We have to go."

With an irritated huff, the wizard nodded in agreement. Hermione felt the clutch on her hair tighten as the Sirius pulled her close to him, growling "careful around those snakes, kitten," before lips roughly crashed down on her own. With the taste of him still on her lips, the witch found herself stumbling into another set of arms. A bark of laughter resonated throughout the alley followed by the sharp _cracks_ of apparation, leaving behind only stillness.

The sudden tranquility left nothing as a distraction from what had just taken place. It wasn't until that moment that the witch realized that her body was convulsing with pure terror. She didn't want to think about it. She couldn't think about it...

_Sirius and Remus-they-_

No. NO! Biting back the panic that she felt seizing her body, Hermione turned her attention onto the wizards who had saved her. The blond one, stood next to her, the solid grip he had on her arm giving her reassurance that she was still in reality. In front of them stood the Sirius-look-alike, his lips turned down in a frown as he looked her in the eyes and took off his cloak.

"Are you okay?" The dark haired wizard asked as he threw his cloak over her shoulders. The witch began nodding, but-as everything crashed down around her-the witch felt tears on her cheeks as she shook her head vigorously. She was conscious just enough to wrap the cloak to cover her exposed chest and grip the blond wizard arms for stability before a ringing took over her ears and her eyes became unfocused.

"What.. what can we do for you? Do you need to go to a healer?" the deep voice close to her ear demanded. The thought of going to St. Mungo's horrified Hermione.

"NO! No, please. Nyssa... I need Mrs. Lovegood, please." Still clinging to the wizard, she watched as they shared a look, the darker one nodded grimly.

"Hold on to me, okay?" Without any further warning the witch felt the familiar pressure of apparation as it pulled her far away from Diagon Alley.

...


End file.
